


there is something about you

by owilde



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, Drinking, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Slash, Short One Shot, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, because that's all i'm capable of atm, they're both massive nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9200411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owilde/pseuds/owilde
Summary: "Good morning," he tried, as casual as he could - because what harm could come from manners in this situation, really."What?" The man muttered in response, squinting his eyes. His head lolled back and hit the wall. Edward's lips twitched, unsure of whether to smile or not."Good morning, I said. It's quite early – I was sleeping and I heard you," Edward informed the man, clicking his tongue. "Quite rude to cause such ruckus at this hour."





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is awful but i just wanted to write something for these two that wasn't angst or otherwise soul crushing, that's all

The loud banging was what startled Edward up, initially. It carried out from the hallway through the paper thin walls, not in any determined pattern or rhythm, and continued on with slight irregular pauses in between. Every minute felt like an eternity in the dark as Edward counted the seconds that each set lasted for and the pauses in between, adamantly keeping his lids shut. He had an early morning ahead, alarm set for 6:30 am sharp, and he was certain this _disturbance_ would surely pass soon.

It didn't pass, of course. After a while the banging sounds were accompanied by high pitched curses and, if Edward determined correctly, the sounds of someone forcefully kicking the wall. Reluctantly he cracked his eyes open, glancing at the digital clock by his bedside table. The red lights blinked back at him blurrily, and Edward reached for his glasses with his right arm. The blur sharpened up, and Ed sat up straight with a frown as 4:18 glared back at him in the dark room. He turned to look at the direction of the hallway, where the horrendous noise was still coming from, and sighed sharply.

"Have it your way, then," he mumbled promptly under his breath and slipped from under the covers, shivering as his feet hit the cold floor. A knife found its way into his hand almost naturally as he passed the kitchen, and Edward would've been marginally concerned with this had it a) not been four o'clock in the morning and b) had he not already been doing some self-reflection only to come to a sudden, yet not perhaps surprising, realization that he wasn't exactly what you would call a 'healthy individual'.

The floor creaked loudly underneath him as he made his way to the door, the room lit dimly by the green light pooling in through the windows. The banging sound had ceased, only to be replaced with quiet sobbing and occasional thuds; as if someone was hitting their head against the wall. Edward turned the handle of his front door softly, letting it open on its own, and took a hesitant step to the hallway.

The sight that greeted him was an unexpected one, to put it that way.

A man was sitting on the ground, slumped against the wall in what looked like the most uncomfortable position possible. Edward frowned, bending slightly toward the man's level and maneuvering the knife behind his back in one swift motion. The man – Edward noted his pointy black hair and crooked nose, and the _freckles_ – glanced up at him with bleary eyes, looking resigned. Edward took another step closer.

"Good morning," he tried, as casual as he could - because what harm could come from manners in this situation, really.

"What?" The man muttered in response, squinting his eyes. His head lolled back and hit the wall. Edward's lips twitched, unsure of whether to smile or not.

"Good morning, I said. It's quite early – I was sleeping and I heard you," Edward informed the man, clicking his tongue. "Quite rude to cause such ruckus at this hour."

The man's mouth opened to a small 'o', and he pursed his lips tightly together. "Ah, yes," he admitted sheepishly, glancing down at the floor. "Truly, I have been most inconsiderate. Do forgive me, Mr…?"

"Nygma," Edward introduced, silently closing his door and sliding down opposite to the man. "Edward Nygma, but do call me Edward."

The man smiled briefly. "Hello, Edward. My name's Oswald Cobblepot."

"A pleasure meeting you, Oswald."

"Likewise."

Edward eyed Oswald, glancing at the bottle of alcohol he was holding in his left hand. The cork looked violated, bend at its edges and somehow even tighter shut than it had probably initially been. Ed quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head.

"What exactly were you trying to accomplish?" He asked, genuinely curious.

Oswald lifted the bottle up, eyes flickering between the cork and the label. His lips stretched into a humourless smile. "I locked myself out of my apartment," he said, which explained precisely nothing at all.

"And the noise?" Edward inquired. His eyes kept returning back to the corners of Oswald's mouth. _This is why we don't talk to our neighbours_ , he thought miserably, _because some of them are gorgeous and yet most probably straight_.

"I don't have a bottle opener," the other man said, setting the bottle down once more. "Obviously, since it's in my apartment. I thought—well, I thought that if I'm not getting in, I could at least drink in the meantime. But, well." He looked at the jammed up cork forlornly. "It's even more stuck now."

Edward had the sudden urge to wrap this man up in blankets and never let him out of his sight again. He looked like the definition of 'desperation', sitting there in the hallway at half past four in the morning with a bottle of wine in his hand and no way of opening it. Edward shuffled a little, extending his left leg so that it went diagonal across the narrow halfway. The tip of his toe touched the wall next to Oswald.

"You could come in," he suggested in a moment of temporary (or not so temporary) insanity. "We could, um. Share your bottle? Which would be wiser from a scientific point of view, you see, because the rate of infatuation—I mean, _intoxication_ would be slower then, and—"

His ramble was interrupted by a soft laugh, and Edward tried very hard to not make a strangled noise at the sound. Oswald was looking at Edward, his eyes twinkling, and Edward blinked back without quite knowing what to say.

"I don't think it'd be very wise of me to go into a strange man's apartment," Oswald started, still smirking, "especially when that man is carrying a knife."

There was a pause. Edward blinked in surprise, then pulled the knife from behind his back. "You noticed?" He asked, setting it aside on the floor.

Oswald scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. " _Obviously_ I noticed. This is Gotham. I'd be more surprised if you _didn't_ have a weapon of some kind." There was a pause. "But, I might take you up on your offer. If you insist."

"I do," Edward said before realizing what exactly it was that he was saying. "Insist, that is."

Oswald's crinkled eyes were the only confirmation he needed.

They both stood up, Oswald with some difficulty as he leaned against the wall for support.

"You often invite strange men into your apartment?" Oswald asked as Edward opened his door.

He spluttered, turning it into a cough halfway between. "I'm not—I don't—no. I don't," Edward croaked out, alarm bells going off in his head.

 _Definitely not straight_ , his mind helpfully supplied as Edward locked the door behind a grinning Oswald. _Almost, quite certainly, not straight_.

Oswald was looking around Edward's apartment, soaking it all in with wide eyes. "Much more elegant than mine," he commented. "I must say, your sense of décor is brilliant."

Edward set the knife down on the kitchen table, pulling out two wine glasses from his cabin. From the corner of his eye he saw Oswald gently dragging a finger across the surface of one of his paintings, examining the picture with interest.

"If you could handle the bottle?" Edward asked, and Oswald tore his gaze away from the canvas.

"It'd be my delight," he smirked.

Edward thought it was completely unfair how some people's smiles were enough to turn his knees weak.

They sat down opposite to each other, Oswald gazing at Edward from across the kitchen table and Edward staring into his glass with slight desperation.

"This is ridiculous," Edward mumbled. "It's almost five in the morning. Why am I drinking with a stranger in my own kitchen?"

"It _was_ your idea," Oswald said dryly. "But, now we have the ideal time to get to know each other. It's not every day you realize you live across the hall from someone like… you."

Edward looked up, lifting a brow. "Like me?"

"Intriguing," Oswald supplied, smiling. "You're quite intriguing."

Edward took _intriguing_ to mean _insane_ and smiled a little. "Thank you." He paused, glancing at the clock. "I have work today, you know."

Oswald looked him in the eye, tilting his head dangerously. "Call in sick," he suggested sweetly.

Edward never showed up for work that day.

Oswald never returned to his apartment, either.


End file.
